


till the curtain's coming down

by uItimate



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, TATINOF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uItimate/pseuds/uItimate
Summary: "Alright, alright," Phil surrenders, putting his hands up and lowering them, leans in on the i feel the love, feel the love and meets their lips on the one two three one two three drink, drinks in his alcohol-esque scent and sips in the taste of his bitter lips.





	till the curtain's coming down

Phil's drunk on hype.

He has been ever since he graced the stage not too long ago, his body  _still_  slowly adjusting to relaxing mode after throwing his voice out to a sea of thousands— but he doesn't care. They were in a  _fucking_  limo, passing by Los Vegas— about to enter a casino in said country; so it was only natural that the bounce in his step hasn't ceased.

"Oh— _oh!_ " Phil exclaims. "Look at the pretty lights! I've seen Vegas online and in pictures but never this close! Dan!  _DANDANDANDAN_   _oh my god are you seeing this oh god Dan!_ " He turns his face and lets his eyes descend, only to see the very person he's been calling out do fast asleep on his lap;  _not_  looking excitedly along with him.

Hmph.

"Hmph," Phil scoffs, but smiles a little. Dan had a cute little curl dangling from his hair and almost touching his right eye, and his eyelids were closed; lashes fluttering just so, and Phil wonders if he could kiss him awake, and hope the exhaustion spell wears off so they could sing in the forests of Vegas lights.

...

Update: The electified, animated feeling in him hasn't quiet died yet. He's really truly drunk, thanks to one too many cocktails that he really truly shouldn't have swished down as he did, but he did.

So now they're drunkily dancing to a Sia song as Marianne saunters off to look at a few games.  _You too have fun,_ she reminds; and then, warningly:  _not too much fun._

"We will, Mother," Dan teased.

She laughs and leaves with a flourish.

 _i'm the one for a good time call_  
_phone's blowin' up, they're ringin' my doorbell_

"Hey," Phil starts wonderingly, hand on his shoulder, "What would you think happen i-if i actually swing on the chandelier?"

Dan looks at him through his insobriety, cocking his head. "Property damage, obviously."

"Well, I'm tempted."

"Well, don't."

"Alright, alright," Phil surrenders, putting his hands up and lowering them, leans in on the  _i feel the love, feel the love_  and meets their lips  _on the one two three one two three drink,_ drinks in his alcohol-esque scent and sips in the taste of his bitter lips.

He breaks away.

Dan says, joyous, "Happy birthday to me, I guess." 

...

"25."

"25."

"You have grown up six years since I met you, and it still feels like you're—"

"—Eighteen again. I know, I know, Phil." Dan reaches over and bops his nose with his finger, Phil crinkling it at the touch. "I know. And you've grown too, despite our audience's everlasting need for you to stay young forever." Bringing up his lips and says, " _Smol_   _bean_."

A smile tickles it's way into Phil's lips.

"It just hit me that I'm going to be 30 years old next year. 30!" 

"Grandpa."

Phil rolls his eyes at this. "You're not far off from 30 either."

"But you're older. And closer to it.  _Grandpa_." 

He hates him.

"I hate you." Phil announces as if it's a truth, which it is. For a split second.

"Maybe— maybe I can make you love me again." says Dan. He tracks his eyes all over Phil's body; all the places he felt the sudden rush to touch; his fingers itching to embark and explore; his brain envisioning the moment his mouth touches his pale skin, making rouge tattoos; patterns, several messages:  _I want you like this._

But Phil decides to look deeper into Dan's eyes, decides to tell him:  _Who said I ever stopped?_

...

Sometimes, when it's night and all Phil can see is pitch black sprinkled with confetti stars and a slumbered being laying right next to him, he thinks.

He thinks of corgis running across verte grassy floors, tongues out, charging toward them on a sky blue day with their worries murdered and laid out on a coffin. He thinks of running his hands along visual memories of city lights and award ceremonies; videos filled with anecdotes and shrill screeches; time stopping gazes and slowly, gently, a wall; a  _forcefield_  they put up being broken. That feeling of being a free Bird, released from a cage and flying towards the skies above.

He thinks that soon, they'll be home; and he watches as Dan's chest rises and falls; eyelids shut, peaceful in the limned moonlight. Phil's always liked it best when the pretty lights shown on him, making him look more ethereal and angelic that he always has been.He thinks that, yes, they'll be home, and soon, they'll have that dream. 

He thinks that, yes, they'll be home, and soon, they'll have that  _dream._  That  _want._

But the stage lights are enough for now. 

...

(And given how many years it took for him to stay stuck under the shadows, he hopes it'll be that way for a while.)

...

Phil's lounging on their hotel living room's couch; talking up a storm on the phone.

"How's the tour?" asks his mother; peppy voiced.

"It's great!" says Phil, eyes darting towards the clock.  _10:00 A.M,_ it read. "And we just celebrated Dan's 25th birthday at Vegas."

"That's wonderful!" He could hear her smile, if possible. "And, _oh,_  Phil?"

"Yeah?"

A pause. A breath.

"Tell Dan I send him a belated birthday. You two go out and show what you've worked towards for years!"

 _What we've worked for,_ he mentally repeats this.  _What we've worked for years._

It all starts to swirl around his head; something he's know for days on end that calculate into years and into slow years and fast years; years where love professed in the dark, masks on, was much better than professed in the naked light; followed by camera flashes. Years where everything else mattered; the faithful watchers and recorders _—_ writers and dreamers that dreamt dreamy dreams of situations where he'd be too scared to tell it all anyways. Years where no brightly colored stage lights had any significance until strolling up on that platform the first time then.

_Show what we've worked towards—_

"I have to go now," She says.

And hangs up; leaving Phil to sink in his chair and glance at their suitcases.

...

Turns out time flies a lot faster than one may think.

"That break was nice," Dan says, "Luckily we'll get a lot of those. Hopefully."

"Yeah," says Phil.  _Lots of time to spend with you, all the time,_  he also wants to say. But that seemed much too cheesy.

But so was their entire dynamic; and meeting; history, all of it wrapped up in stringy red; as he also figures, but he could elaborate on that later.

"Excited to perform again?" Phil asks instead.

Dan coughed, looking at their venue. "Uh, yeah. I guess."

"Scared?"

"Of a stage? Belting out my heart and soul to millions of strangers around the world?"

"Yes. That."

Dan sighs; heavily and uneasy. "Well-" He starts as he gazes out to the awaited building, "I don't feel quite confident right now."

Phil could practically hear Dan's heart jumping out of his chest, then his own until they both met in the space of this majestic moving vehicle; as intertwined as their hands were, as intertwined as they always were. Maybe that's all that mattered now, Phil thinks. Each other. For all time.

"That's okay," says Phil, ready to admit; sends him a smile and shapes it into pucker position, leans in too; and hopes to drown out the shakiness in one go.

**Author's Note:**

> hello HELLO i'm not over the tatinof era thus here is this but um tell me what you think friends


End file.
